By Keith Burton i was stretching my legs on the littoralgiving names to the shapes of the cloudsthat swam across the lake’s reflectionwhen trouble came crawling on eight legs. help me across he asked with a period. i knew better; i had an owl’s acuity.no can do, i know you…
by Don Mager Don’t stop looking just to take sides with the wriggling cricket. You see victim then. Look simply. This thread is a line taking a slow walk around itself to view every side. It sees angles and arcs. It sees interstices. Its eloquence wavers in the light. Its journey forth and…